


Beautiful Monsters

by GarnetSeren



Series: Marvel Madness [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Best Friends, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Dedicated to the memory of Stan Lee, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity War Compliant, Light Angst, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 17:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 15,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: Natasha was a beautiful yet deadly woman. She could charm and manipulate in equal measure. She was calm, collected, indomitable. She could seduce any man she set her sights on, she was the Black Widow after all. Billionaires, politicians, royalty, military leaders... she'd beguiled them all. So she knew the man she actually set her sights on came as a surprise to some, perhaps the only person who'd seen it coming was Clint. However, despite what others said, there'd been something about Bruce that had fascinated Natasha from the very beginning.*A re-working/updating of a story I originally posted back in 2016 under the title: Monsters. Though with the release of Ragnarök and Infinity War, the ending no longer made any sense, so the final two chapters will be new content to reflect what happened in the latest films.*





	1. Close Encounter

“I'm sorry, that was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do.”

Natasha's stance was flawless, even as Doctor Banner's words hung in the air. Her heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through her veins, but her mask remained firmly in place; no outward cracks to give away her inner turmoil. As always, she was the picture perfect agent. Calm, collected, indomitable, unmoveable. Her hands were steady as she aimed her pistol.

Inside, she was quaking. It took a _lot_ to scared Natasha, nothing short of her partner being MIA, but fear had well and truly sunk it's fangs into her at the mild mannered doctor's sudden change. And a twisted part of her... more twisted than the rest... was utterly fascinated by it. This quiet, unassuming man possessed something inside of him, a so called monster, that could frighten the Black Widow. She was impressed.

“Why don't we do this... the easy way. Where you don't use that,” the doctor continued, gesturing to her gun. “And the... other guy, doesn't make a mess. Okay? Natasha?”

She took in Banner's apologetic, almost bashful half smile. His placating hand gestures, the earnestness in his eyes. Natasha was an expert at reading people, it had been a life long job after all, and everything about the doctor screamed sincerity. He seemed genuinely remorseful for trying to frighten her. It was oddly... sweet, which wasn't a word often found in Natasha's vocabulary. It also hadn't slipped her attention, how Banner reluctantly referred to his alter-ego, as if it was something he distrusted as much as everyone else did. Which was intriguing. So with less hesitation than was possibly wise, Natasha lowered her gun.

“Stand down,” she said into the comm. link. “We're good here.”

“Just you and me?” the doctor asked, mimicking her earlier words.

She shrugged, unabashed. “It's not like you don't have back up.”

Though unfounded, Natasha was certain that the smile Banner gave her in response was his first genuine one in years.

 


	2. Knife's Edge

“In case you needed to kill me. You can't. I tried.”

Not for the first time, the doctor's words hung thickly in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha noticed the stricken look on Stark's face and the confused one on Rogers'. The former looked like a man who had been there, the latter looked like he couldn't fathom why anyone would attempt such a thing... which, good for America's golden boy she supposed. Thor shift uneasily from foot to foot, and even Fury looked slightly uncomfortable. Natasha herself... well, she was leaning more towards Stark's view on the matter, not that anyone other than Clint would ever know.

Not that it really mattered, especially since her real attention was focused on Banner. Naturally, the doctor wasn't happy with the cage that could plummet him to... what should have been... certain death; and though Fury was her boss, Natasha couldn't help silently siding with the doctor. However, unlike what Rogers evidently expected, Natasha could see that Banner wasn't even close to losing his temper... despite Stark's antics.

They'd talked briefly during their flight from Calcutta, when curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she'd just had to ask how he'd managed a year without incident. Banner had explained about some of the techniques he used, and though he'd been hesitant at first, once he'd realised she wasn't asking out of fear but curiosity, the doctor had opened up about his extensive training in yoga and meditation, as well as some study of various martial arts. It had been blindingly obvious Banner took his efforts to control his alter-ego deadly serious, which was something Natasha could appreciate and admire.

“I got low,” Banner continued to expain, hugging himself. “I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth, and the other guy spat it out.”

Contrary to popular belief, Natasha was human. With thoughts, feelings, and even empathy... she blamed Clint for that. As she listened and took in the doctor's uncomfortable, almost defeated posture, she had the sudden urge to hug him... once again, she blamed Clint for that; her best friend was such a tactile person. He'd given Natasha her very first hug, a memory that still made her smile after all the years they'd been partners. However, as she stood in the Helicarrier's lab, she was Agent Romanov, not Natasha. So she settled for giving Banner a slight, barely there smile of support, when he quickly glanced in her direction.

“So I moved on,” Banner explained, tensely, looking around the room. “I focused on helping other people. I was good, until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone ask risk.”

Natasha tensed as she noticed the doctor's hand reach for the sceptre, though she was certain Banner wasn't even aware he was doing it, and as his gaze locked with hers again, she quickly assessed the colour of his eyes. Not looking for green like she suspected the others were, but for blue. She'd extensively scoured the surveillance footage of Clint's abduction, and his usually kind eyes had been tinged an eerie blue. Natasha was positive the sceptre had something to do with it, and now she was certain Loki was somehow controlling Banner through it. She debated asking Thor for his advice... the trickster god was his brother, after all... but every instinct told her not to take her eyes off the doctor. Her instincts had never been wrong before.

“You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanov?” Banner addressed her. “Want to know my secret to staying calm?”

As his hand gripped the sceptre, Natasha's instantly went for her pistol that was strapped to her right thigh. Though she couldn't see him, she was certain Fury had reached for his as well, and behind her, she could hear Thor shift in a fighting stance. On her peripheral, she noticed Stark unclasp his hands, presumably in order to call his latest suit, and Rogers tensed his shoulders, turning his body so he was ready to charge.

“Doctor Banner,” he said, with forced calm. “Put down the sceptre.”

 


	3. Up Close and Personal

The look in Banner's eyes left Natasha a little breathless. Yes she was terrified; being pinned to the metal decking by some heavy metal pipes whilst the doctor _change_ , wasn't her idea of a good time. Training to be the world's best assassin hadn't prepared her for coming face to face with the Hulk, after all. But she also hadn't been prepared for Banner to lock eyes with her, mid transformation... and it _was_ the doctor who had sought her gaze, not the big green guy. His warm brown eyes were so apologetic, so full of concern. At that moment, Natasha had realised that Banner was scared _for_ her, which was a novel realisation, since Clint was about the only person who'd ever genuinely cared about her before. It also set warning bells ringing in her head.

So whilst the Hulk finished taking control of the doctor, Natasha managed to use those precious few seconds to free her trapped foot as quietly as possible, before she scrambled up and limped away. She'd barely made it to the staircase when the Hulk spotted her, and knowing that her injured ankle was only going to slow her down, Natasha leapt upwards to the overhead platform, swinging up and over like she was a born carnie... Clint would've be proud. It hadn't been a moment too soon, since the Hulk smashed the staircase just seconds later. Primal fear coursed through Natasha' veins, a very rare occurrence that overrode her imprinted training, which had never covered this. So she swung and scampered away like the spider she was named for, her heart hammering in her chest, and her brain hoping against hope that the Hulk couldn't smell her fear.

A few blessed seconds of pause, hunkered down behind a row of piping, allowed Natasha to get hold of her emotions. She trampled down the fear, like the irrational and unwanted baggage it was... she was better than base instincts. Silently, she drew her pistol from her thigh holster, and crept through the shadows. Natasha's heart still beat wildly, but the rest of her body was back under her control. So when she came face to face with a roaring Hulk a second time, she managed to not even flinch, and remembering Banner had admitted that bullets did nothing against his alter ego, Natasha aimed her gun slightly above the Hulk's head, firing one calm and calculated shot. Thankfully, hot steam from the now punctured overhead pipe managed to disorient the behemoth long enough for Natasha to begin hurrying away.

However, she knew that though the stunt bought her a few seconds, it had probably only enraged the Hulk further. That knowledge forced Natasha to push passed the pain of her obviously sprained ankle, and soon managed to settle into a jaunty run as she made her way through the narrow service corridor. But all too soon she could hear the Hulk thundering behind her, and refusing the urge to glance behind her, Natasha pushed forward... demanding her body be just that little bit quicker, that little bit more efficient. But it was all for nought when the Hulk's meaty hand collided with her side, the momentum sending her literally flying.

She collided with a nearby metal wall. Hard. Dazed and winded, Natasha tried to shuffle herself into at least a seated position. She was vaguely aware she could likely add several broken ribs to her probably now fractured ankle, and possible a bruised kidney as well; a small part of her brain was suddenly incredibly thankful for the modifications that had been forced upon her, though that could have be the concussion talking. Which considering how her head pounded and her ears rung, Natasha thought it was a fairly likely culprit. She felt so disoriented, that instead of looking for her missing gun when she heard loud pounding steps draw nearer, she instinctively shuffled backwards; blinking hazily upwards to meet the gaze of her attacker.

But despite her injuries, Natasha was not going to let her fear win... she was better than that, tougher than that. So as the Hulk growled and raised his massive hand ready to strike, Natasha grit her teeth and met his green gaze. But before the blow came down, the behemoth was simply no longer there. It took Natasha several seconds to realised she was no longer in any immediate danger, and her body relaxed by increments. She was faintly aware she probably had Thor to thank, since Stark and Rogers were out trying to fix the helicarrier.

However the relief was short lived. Enhancements or not, her body had just suffered significant trauma, and she began to shake uncontrollably. Natasha was quickly alerted to a sharp pain in her abdomen, and after cautious exploration she found it to be swelling, which undoubtedly meant internal bleeding. The tremors racking her body kicked up a notch at the realisation, and Natasha only vaguely remembered to push the panic button on her utility belt, as she went into shock.

 


	4. Knight in Rusty Armour

Logically, if that was the right word for it, Natasha knew the Hulk was pretty indestructible. But after a fall of fifty thousand feet, she really hadn't expected to see Banner ride into the heart of the city turned battle zone, like some proverbial white knight, on a banged up motorbike of all things. Natasha couldn't help raising an eyebrow at his entrance, sharing a fleeting look with Clint... and hell, it felt good to be able to do that again, not that she let it show. Instead, Natasha followed Rogers' lead and slowly approached the doctor; only a little surprised that he was still... well... _Banner_. With all the death, destruction, and flying aliens surrounding them, Natasha was really impressed that the Hulk hadn't made another appearance.

“So, this all seems... horrible,” Banner said, by way of greeting.

Natasha's lips threatened to quirk at the doctor's gallows humour, whilst Clint gave an actual snort of amusement. It was the first Barton-like thing he'd really done since she'd gotten him back, which meant Natasha now had owed Banner a debt... not that anyone else would understand. But that was a concern for later, and filing it away for another time, Natasha took stock of the doctor's appearance.

He was covered in several scraps, his greying black hair was flecked with dust, and his chocolate eyes looked tired. The clothes he wore were rumpled and a size too big. His shoulders were hunched, his posture almost defensive, and his gaze barely made contact with any of them. For a brief moment, his warm brown eyes locked with hers, and the look he gave was so sheepish and earnest, that Natasha couldn't think of Banner as anything other than adorable. Which was dangerous and stupid... and not only considering his alter ego had tried to kill her just a few hours ago.

“I've seen worse,” she stated, deadpan.

“Sorry,” Banner replied, instantly.

He looked like such a kicked puppy as he said it, that Natasha was resigned to the fact she'd be thinking of the doctor as 'adorable' for the foreseeable future. Though that hardly mattered right then, especially since obvious that the doctor had missed her own gallows humour. He seemed so genuinely apologetic, with his gaze downcast again and his shoulders hunching further, that Natasha decided to take pity on him... she was obviously going soft, which she was blaming on Clint, or at least the relief of having her partner back.

“No, we could use...” Natasha paused, thinking how best word it, but nothing tactful came. “A little worse.”

Banner's eyes widened fractionally and he stared at her for several seconds, obviously in surprise. Natasha supposed he'd expected her to either reject his apology, ignore him completely, or tell the Rogers' that he couldn't be trusted. But that couldn't be further than the truth. She wouldn't be sharing her secrets with him any time soon; only Clint had that dubious privilege. However, Natasha thought the fact Banner came to the fight, of his own volition, was worthy of her respect... and perhaps just a little bit of trust. She was even more impressed when he simply started to walk towards the 'party', that Stark was bringing their way.

“Ddddoctor Banner...” Rogers called after him, obviously shocked. “Now might be a really good time to get angry.”

“That's my secret, Captain. I'm always angry,” he called, glancing over his shoulder.

Banner spared her a fleeting, apologetic look before his chocolate eyes turned green. And though her heart still beat a little quicker being so close as the Hulk took over, Natasha had to admit watching him change without having to fear for her life was actually... kind of... a little bit... impressive. Not that she'd ever say so.

 


	5. After the Storm

Shawarma... not exactly how Natasha had pictured their post battle celebration to go. Actually, she hadn't really expected any sort of celebration, herself and Clint usually did shots of vodka together after they'd debriefed, normally to unwind not celebrate. But this whole fiasco hadn't been an ordinary mission, and Natasha supposed after everything, celebrating not dying a hundred times over was probably warranted. She wasn't even that surprised that despite the destruction covering the city, Stark had somehow managed to find a restaurant that was willing to reopen; but still... Shawarma.

Mixed meats roasted on a spit, shaved off, and served in a wrap. It was hardly haute cuisine, though reminded Natasha of the Doners that she'd eaten with Clint, whilst on a mission in Ankara. But then again, it was Stark's suggestion, and it was the engineer that had just flown a missile into a dimensional vortex, died, and been brought back by the Hulk yelling in his face. So even Natasha could agree that the billionaire deserved to be humoured, at least for the time being. So the six of them squeezed around on overloaded table, whilst the restaurant's proprietor cooked for them himself, whilst his wife diligently tried to sweep up the debris that littered the floor.

Despite the oddity of the situation, an almost comfortable silence had settled over them. To Natasha's right, Clint tiredly slumped in his chair and picked at a bowl of chips and cheese, his lamb Shawarma long since finished. He looked worn and distant, which made her worry, but his leg propped up on her chair was reassuring and familiar. Natasha knew it was going to be a long road ahead for her partner, but he was her best friend and she'd be there every step of the way with him; it's what they did.

To her left, Rogers was already nodding off, his face propped up on his right fist and a wrap still clasped in his left hand. Next to him, Thor was happily shovelling in his sixth severing of Shawarma. Beside him was Stark, who lounged in his chair and stared off into the middle distance, almost mechanically eating his mixed meat wrap... and not that she'd ever say anything, but Natasha was genuinely worried about him. She was hardly on good terms with Ms Potts after her cover of Natalie Rushman had been blown, but she figured she owed it to Stark to at least give his girlfriend some sort of heads up. The man was probably going to need as much support as Clint was, and Natasha was certain he'd also be as pig-headed about it as her partner. So she made a mental note to contact Potts later.  
  
Finally, there was Banner, who was steadily making his way through his third helping of rice and salad... along with a second lot of fries. Natasha figured Hulking out must be hungry business, wasn't too surprised that the doctor didn't eat meat; though she still was trying to figure out if it was a personal choice, or a habit from living in a prominently Hindu area of Calcutta for so long. And just as she was contemplating that though, Banner looked up and caught her eye. A hint of a smile pulled at his lips, as he nodded to her food; a rather unimpressive chicken and salad on pita.

Natasha understood the silent question and gave a slight shrug... she'd had worse... before giving his food a pointed look and raised her eyebrow. Banner smile widened slightly, seeming a little more genuine, even as he shook his head and looked back down at his meal. Natasha bit back a smile of her own and continued eating.

There were very few people she could have a silent conversation with... make that one person, who's foot was currently taking up most of her chair. So Natasha was a little surprised that she'd managed to do so with Banner, not that she'd even admit to being surprised by anything... pleasantly surprised though, which was also a novelty. It only made her more intrigued about the mild mannered doctor, and though she wasn't sure that Banner would stick around now that the immediate danger was over, Natasha actually found herself hoping he would.

 


	6. A New Beginning

Natasha groaned as she pressed her forehead against the cold, white marble surface of the kitchen work top. She wasn't entirely sure how Clint had talked her into this. Of course, she understood her best friend's reasoning, after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D, Natasha really didn't have anywhere else to go. Naturally, Clint had originally offered for her to come lay low at his place, but she couldn't do that to him; she wouldn't put her partner at that sort of risk. Which was why Natasha now found herself on the communal floor of Stark... no Avengers'... Tower. Because she'd burned herself as she'd burned HYDRA. She'd exposed all of her covers, all of her safe houses, simply because there was no other was to bring down the bastards without bringing herself down right along with them.

To be honest, with everything that was now out in the open about her, Natasha hadn't really expected Stark to let her even step over the threshold, never mind let her stay in the tower; which was more his home than the Malibu mansion ever was. But he had, without hesitation, even smugly informing her that he already had suite waiting for her... though the word 'suite' didn't do it justice. Stark had given her an apartment that took up a third of an entire _floor._ A floor that apparently held an equal sized apartment for Clint, in case he ever needed it, and a state of the art surveillance suite that took up the remaining third.

It had been much too much. Much too much. And although she'd remained mostly stoic in front of Stark, thanking him calmly but sincerely as he boasted about the top of the range equipment the 'Spy Floor' was enhanced with, Natasha had baulked the moment Stark had left. It really was too much. She'd never had anything just _given_ to her... unless it was from Clint... and never on this scale. Stark, whether he knew it or not, wasn't just giving her a place to weather the storm, he was giving her a home. Some place safe, some place that was just for her.

It was too much. Natasha was not accustomed to random acts of generosity; it made her anxious, it made her wary. She'd barely seen Stark over the past two years, apart from attending the charity functions he hosted on a bi-yearly basis. It was overwhelming. She wasn't entirely sure how she should react, especially with everything but her friendship with Clint lying in tatters around her feet. So Natasha ran away... not very far and not that she'd admit it; though she was certain JARVIS had probably already informed Stark _something_. Then again, perhaps she was just being paranoid, she only went to the common floor after all. A space that was comprised of a enormous lounge and equally large games room, as well as a state of the art gym, a room that was basically an indoor cinema, and a breathtakingly modern kitchen. Which was where Natasha now found herself.

“Doctor Banner is approaching your location, Ms Romanov,” JARVIS suddenly announced.

Natasha jerked upright at the AI's voice, and instinctively shifted the perch she had on the stool, whilst automatically dragging a nearby magazine towards her. She snorted when she realised that it was the latest copy of 'Forbes', with a photo of Stark adorning the front cover. Quickly, Natasha flipped through the glossy pages hoping to find a seemingly interesting article to back up her cover.

“Ms Potts' interview is on page ninety six, Ms Romanov,” JARVIS advised.  
  
The AI spoke just as Banner rounded the corner into the kitchen, leaving Natasha without the opportunity to ask JARVIS if the advise was based of it's own assessment and understanding of the situation, or if Stark had instructed the AI to do so; she wasn't sure which scenario was the least mortifying. Regardless, that was a problem for another time, because Natasha was currently confronted with an adorably dishevelled looking physicist. Banner blinked at her a little surprised, not that she blamed him. The last time they'd seen each other was at Stark's festive charity ball several months ago... not to mention _everything_ he could have read up on her by now, considering it'd been over a month since she'd helped Steve bring HYDRA along with SHIELD crashing to the ground. And although Natasha hated to admit it, she felt ever so slightly nervous as she met Banner's gaze; there was a _lot_ of red in her ledger.

“Tony nagged you to read it to?” he asked, smiling.

Banner nodded towards the article that the magazine as he spoke, and just like that, the unseen tension melted out of Natasha's body. Very few people could have that affect on her, namely Clint, which meant the good doctor was a part of a very rare breed of people. It was surprising, but also... nice. Nice was not something she was really accustomed to, it left her feeling a little off kilter. So perhaps for the first time ever, Natasha responded to Banner's smile with a genuine one of her own.

 


	7. On the Road Again

Banner had been running himself ragged in the labs, ever since his usual distraction... Tony... had jetted off to Monte Carlo with Pepper. Natasha had barely seen him at all during the first week, but by the second, when JARVIS had politely informed her that: “Doctor Banner hasn't eaten in forty six hours”, Natasha decided enough was enough. She'd been about to leave to spend some time with Clint at the farm, but she couldn't in good conscious... yes, she did have one of those... go and leave Banner to his own devices. He might be a genius, but he couldn't look after himself at all.

So after quickly checking with her best friend, and a stealthy mission to retrieve some of the doctor's belongings from his room, Natasha had a very confused Banner sat in the passenger seat of her black Acura TL, as she drove along the I-95 towards Maine. Sure, she could have probably borrowed one of Tony's jets and been in Houlton within a few hours, but there was something about a road trip that appealed to Natasha. There was no mission, no impending doom, so for once she could just take her time and enjoy the nearly nine hours of driving. Besides, there was a pizzeria in Mystic that Clint had been taking her to ever since they'd become partners. Getting a 'Veggie Pizza Wrap' on the journey had become tradition, and Natasha was almost certain Banner would enjoy it as well. So she drove for nearly two hours, enjoying the doctor's eclectic taste in music, before he broke the comfortable silence between them.  
  
“Since I'm guessing you're not driving me out to the wilderness to kill me, are you going to tell me where we're going?” he asked, deadpan.

“Safe house,” Natasha replied, cryptically.

Banner raised his eyebrows. “Something you're not telling me?”

The word 'again' hung between them for a heartbeat.  
  
“You got me,” she sighed, dramatically “Me and JARVIS are conspiring against you. I'm going kick you out somewhere remote, giving the AI plenty of time to mess with whatever you're working on in the lab.”

“I knew it,” he smiled, somewhat hesitantly. “So where you kicking me out?”

“How do you feel about pizza?” Natasha asked.

“A little over rated, but pretty good with the right toppings,” Banner answered, without missing a beat.  
  
Natasha flashed him one of her rare, genuine smiles. It wasn't often people could keep up with her train of thought; she wasn't as bad as Tony, but she still liked keeping people on their toes. So it was nice being able to add Banner to the very short list, because even after working with Steve for two years, the captain often got derailed by her thought processes. Clint... and worryingly Tony... were the only ones that could really keep up, Fury and Hill had been close seconds, before the fall of SHIELD.   
  
“There's a place in Mystic, it's pretty good,” Natasha replied.  
  
“But that's not our destination,” the doctor stated, matter-of-fact.  
  
“It's a pit stop.”  
  
“So the safe house...?”  
  
“Is Clint's,” Natasha supplied, glibly.

Banner chuckled. “So 'Team Spy' is kidnapping me?”

She couldn't help grinning at him. “Something like that.”

 


	8. Unexpected Revelations

Nearly nine hours after leaving New York, Natasha pulled off the I-95 and turned down a bumpy narrow lane. The car barely fit, the wing mirrors almost touching the flaking wooden fences on either side. Out the corner of her eye, she notice Bruce avidly taking in the surrounding countryside. Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside a whitewashed farm house with teal shutters, and chickens scratching around the yard.

As Natasha suspected, the whole family had gathered to greet them and Bruce shot her a confused look... just as she expected. However, she simply grinned in reply, far too distracted by Clint and his damn Stetson. Country life suited the archer far better than Natasha would have ever expected, but that didn't mean she couldn't poke fun at her partner; he was becoming such a farmer. So she grabbed a carrier bag from the back seat and chucked it at her best friend, and although she didn't get to see his reaction thanks to the armful of children she now had, Natasha could well imagine Clint's face when he pulled out the grey checked shirt she'd bought him. Not that it really mattered, now she had her godchildren as well as an over excited Labrador vying for her attention.

“Auntie Nat! Auntie Nat!” Lila squealed.   
  
“Hi Auntie Nat,” Cooper grinned.

For his part, Lucky simply bounded around the three of them, barking happily.  
  
“Hey you two,” she smiled, hugging them both before ruffling the dog's ears.

“Kids, go clean up for dinner,” Laura called.  
  
Natasha stood to greet her friend, careful not to squeeze to pregnant woman too tightly as they embraced. But she barely managed to released Laura, before being swept up in one of Clint's bear hugs. Even though she wouldn't outright admit it, Natasha had missed her best friend. He was the only constant she'd ever had in her life, and despite being glad he was taking extended leave to be with his family after Loki, she couldn't wait to have her partner back. 

A quiet cough from behind them called Natasha's attention back to Bruce, and she glanced over her shoulder to give him a wink. She knew most people thought her cold and ruthless, but there was another side to the Natasha Romanov, a person besides the Black Widow; however, it was only at Clint's farm that she felt safe enough to show it. The fact that she was willing to let Bruce that side... well, Natasha didn't really want to think about it. Of course, that was the exact moment that Laura began to usher the doctor into the house, leaving her alone with her best friend.  
  
“So... Bruce, really?” Clint grinned. “Never saw that coming.”

“Shut it, sparrow,” she grumbled.

He laughed. “Name calling, really Tash? What are you, five?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “There's nothing going on between me and Bruce.”

“Never said there was,” Clint retorted, smirking. “But you like him.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Natasha took a moment to consider it. When she really thought about it... really considered all the times Bruce had made her smile, all the times she had thought him interesting or sweet or adorable. Wait, when had she started thinking of him as Bruce and not Banner?

Unable to help it, Natasha sighed as she leant against the hood of the car. Even though she hated to admit it, Clint was probably right... he had a habit of doing that. Seeing things before she did, not that it surprised her really. He wasn't called Hawkeye for nothing. But the fact that she liked Bruce as more than a friend... which was already a novel notion for her to begin with... Natasha _really_ hadn't seen that coming. It was a mess.  
  
“Shit!”

He laughed again, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Don't worry Tash, I won't tell a soul.”  
  
“You better not, bird brain!” she snarked, begrudgingly snaking an arm around his waist.

Clint had the audacity to press a kiss to her temple. “I promise. Even if Laura asks, I'll deny it.”

 


	9. Too Close for Comfort

Manning the wheel of a stolen military jeep, whilst Clint stood rapidly firing arrows at anyone stupid enough to try and attack them, was oddly nostalgic for Natasha. Their early partnership had often consisted of missions like that ended up that way, the only real difference was they now had a minimum of four other people to watch their backs; which included the Hulk, who bounded almost merrily alongside them through the snow covered forest.

Ditching the jeep, Natasha ran right as Clint went left, and the big guy ploughed through the middle of the enemy barricade. She leapt, easily downing one guard with a solid punch to the jaw, before landing lightly, tucking into a roll, then pouncing upon two more HYDRA goons. They went down without effort, as did the guard manning the artillery gun. A further two enemy soldiers fell from the hill above her, a single arrow embedded in each of their jugulars... she didn't even bother to turn around as she gave her partner a mock salute in thanks.

“You know 'at long last' is lasting a little long boys,” she quipped through the comm. link.

“Yeah... and I think we lost the element of surprise,” Clint added, deadpan.

However, despite the fact HYDRA was dug in deeper than their intel. led them to believe, the fight was going relatively well... until her Clint was downed by an automated turret. Natasha yelled his name, forgetting all of her instilled training, before rushing to her partner's side. The snow beneath him was already stained red, but he thankfully opened his eyes when she gently touched his face with slightly trembling fingers. After muttering an apology, she dragged him behind a small clump of trees, all the while dodging shots from the turret.

“Someone want to deal with that bunker?” she grit out, angrily.

Without waiting for a response, Natasha crouched over her best friend and pulled an Xstat pen from her utility belt. Stark's latest invention had seemed impressive on paper, but it hadn't really been field tested before; she just hoped the dozen or so micro sponges would seal up the gaping wound in her Clint's side. As clumsy as he could be in their day to day lives, he never went down during a mission, never. Not like this. Even Natasha had only managed to give him a black eye when they'd first squared off. So despite desperately trying to remain in control of her emotions, she was terrified for her best friend... she couldn't, wouldn't lose him.

So she forced her hand to be steady and she dispensed the Xstat pen, causing Clint to grunt in pain, though the sound was drowned out by a roar from the Hulk. The ground shook as the big guy thundered into the clearing, before charging at the turret. The bunker crumbled in a cloud of concrete dust, whilst the Hulk took out the remaining guards just as effortlessly.

“Thank you,” she called, genuinely relieved.

Clint's lips twitched it a slight smirk, before he gave a sudden hiss of pain. The Xstat seemed to have stopped the bleeding but the wound was too exposed, so Natasha quickly pressed on some combat gauze as gentle as she could. In a moment of weakness, she stroked her partner's cheek reassuringly, before fishing out what looked like an epi-pen from another one of her utility pouches. She showed it to Clint, who blinked his agreement; giving his permission for Natasha to injected the ketamine into the side of his neck. Just as she withdrew the needle, the Hulk lumbered over to them before grunting at Natasha. She smiled up at the big guy, who seemed intent to stand guard... at least for now.

“Clint's hit pretty bad guys. We need evac,” she stated over the comm. link.

At Thor's terse acknowledgement, Natasha sat back on her haunches. Silently, she gathered Clint's hand in her own, before leaning back against the Hulk's huge leg. The big guy huffed at Natasha, his breath ruffling her hair, but did nothing to try and move her. Natasha smiled to herself, though as her best friend caught her eye and pulled what Leila called a 'kissy face', she raised an eyebrow at him. Under normal circumstances, she'd have smacked her partner upside the head, but since he was already sky high on analgesics, Natasha decided to let it slide... for once.

 


	10. A Softer Side

The flight back to Avengers Tower wasn't as fraught as perhaps it could have be. Yes, her partner was still seriously injured; but Steve had managed to bandage Clint's wound more thoroughly, whilst Natasha had hooked her best friend up to an IV of saline and glucose. She couldn't help chuckling when Clint muttered something about 'pretty lights', relieved the ketamine was still doing it's job. Natasha was also thankful Doctor Helen Cho was currently on route to headquarters, with the kit to help Clint, thanks to a call from Tony. The engineer was piloting the jet, Thor was standing guard over the sceptre they'd finally retrieved, and 'Casta Diva' could be quietly heard coming from Bruce's headphones. So confident that Steve could keep an eye on her partner, Natasha patted Clint's hand reassuringly before approaching the doctor.

“Hey. The lullaby worked better than ever,” she smiled.

It was the first time they'd used what Stark had dubbed 'the lullaby' out on a mission, which had stemmed from their stay at the Clint's farm; a chance opportunity where they'd discovered that the songs Natasha and Laura sang to the kids, never failed to put Bruce to sleep as well. It had been Clint's idea to see if it'd calm the Hulk as well, and they'd first tested the theory out in one of his corn fields, before presenting the 'solution' to the rest of the team.

Steve had been wary, though Tony and surprisingly Thor had given their full support without hesitation. So today when they'd had to call in a code green, Natasha was more than happy to field test the lullaby. However, she wasn't so sure Bruce felt the same. He nodded at her assessment first, but then shook his head, avoiding Natasha's gaze as she sat across from him. He look exhausted, and actually a little fragile. Of course he'd quickly helped to stabilise Clint once they'd boarded the jet, but once he was sure she and Steve could do the rest, Bruce had changed into some soft and comfortable clothing, before huddling up in the darkest corner of the cabin. He'd stayed there ever since, and if Natasha was being honest with herself, he looked like he needed a hug.

“Just wasn't expecting the code green,” he sighed, frowning.

Natasha's smile threatened to morph into a smirk, as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She _knew_ that look. It was Bruce's: I'm a terrible person and all I do is hurt people look. Natasha could relate to a certain extent, she'd been a mess for several years after Clint saved her... but she'd _had_ Clint to help bring her round, to help her understand that despite the red in her ledger, she was doing good; that there was more to her than a monster that killed. Natasha doubted Bruce had ever had that support, before Tony that was... and despite her instincts telling her it was dangerous, she found herself wanting to help Bruce like Clint had done for her.

“If you hadn't been there, we'd have been double the casualties.”

She gave Bruce a pointed look, one she knew he'd understand. If it hadn't been for the Hulk, Natasha was positive the turret would have gotten her next, since emotion had overruled logic the minute her partner went down, and she hadn't even attempted to neutralise the hostiles before rushing to his side. Thankfully, Bruce finally met Natasha's eyes, giving her a tiny embarrassed smile, before looking away again... it was stupidly disarming and sweet.

“My best friend would have been a... treasured memory,” she continued, trying not to wince at how her words caught in her throat.

“You know sometimes... _exactly_ what I want to hear, isn't exactly what I want to hear,” Bruce replied, glancing at her.

Natasha offered him a rare, genuine smile. “How long before you trust me?”  
  
The doctor shook his head. “It isn't you I don't trust.”

For some reason, that small fact made Natasha's heart beat just a little bit faster. It was her turn to break eye contact, an almost bashful smile wanted to settle on her lips, though she fought it... stupid damn emotions; which she whole heartedly blamed Clint for.

 


	11. One Step Forward

What they were celebrating, Natasha wasn't entirely sure, though the party was in full swing at Stark Tower. Tony, Thor, and surprisingly Steve were in their element. The billionaire was shooting pool with Wilson, whilst trying to convince the Falcon to let him upgrade the wings, and the other two were swapping war stories with some of Steve's old war buddies... emphasis on the _old_. There was no one under the age of ninety in that group.

Clint and Helen were chatting together with Hill, whilst Natasha caught up with Rhodey. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed Bruce weaving between the groups of people, looking extremely uncomfortable with his hands firmly in this suit's pockets. How he managed to look so out of place in his own home was beyond Natasha, but at the some time he also looked rather adorkable... and perhaps a little handsome. So when the party began to wind down, she left Rhodey playing a game of 'one-upmanship' with Tony and Thor, in order to wandered over to the now deserted bar. Steve was off somewhere chatting to Sam, whilst Hill kicked Clint's ass at pool... as usual. Helen was watching their match with interest, waiting to play the winner, though Bruce was nowhere in sight.

Feeling surprisingly disappointed, Natasha smoothed out the barely visible rumples from her black and white cocktail dress, before making herself a Ginger Cosmo which she mixed from memory. Three parts vodka, two parts cranberry juice, one part lime juice, one part triple sec, and four pieces of ginger. Just as she was pouring the vivid red liquid into a Martini glass, the background music switched to some laid back jazz, and Bruce walked up to the bar. He seemed a little hesitant as he removed his glasses, though after a moment of obvious deliberation, he leant on the black marble counter. However he gave Natasha small smile in greeting, one that was a little nervous but also quite endearing, and she couldn't but smile back... stupid emotions.

“How'd a nice girl like you, end up working in a dump like this?” he drawled.

Natasha chuckled under her breath. Bruce's impression of Bogart was pretty awful, but it brought back pleasant memories of them lounging on Clint's sofa, watching Casablanca. It had been nice to discover she had someone to share her love of old movies with, since her partner teased her relentlessly about her nostalgia. Not that she wanted to admit that out loud. So trying to hide her growing smile, Natasha set about mixing Bruce a Midori Sour. She wasn't sure if he'd like the taste, but hopefully he'd chuckle it's vibrant green colour; and once poured, Natasha struck the most femme fatale pose she could before sliding the glass over to him.

“Fella done me wrong,” she sighed, dramatically.

“You got a lousy taste in men, kid,” Bruce replied, his accent still atrocious.

“Oh... he's not so bad,” she demurred. “He has a temper, but deep down... he's all fluff.”

Natasha didn't needed to be top class spy, to see the look of absolute shock that flickered across Bruce's face. But because she was second to none in her profession, she wasn't entirely sure why she'd evidently lost her mind. Sure, she'd admitted to herself... and unfortunately Clint... that she was somewhat interested in Bruce, but she'd never intended to act on it. It was dangerous territory, one that left her at risk of being hurt and betrayed, again. But Bruce wasn't like that, she knew. He was different, which was why he intrigued her in the first place. And now that she'd almost confessed, and her heart was already beginning to race from unprecedented nerves, Natasha decided to run with it.

Bruce had been the one to start this silly little role-play anyway, so if he wanted nothing more than friendship from her, it'd be easy for Natasha to brush everything off as playing along; besides, the Black Widow was not someone who let fear get the best of her. So she took a moment to consider her words, as it'd be ease to play the femme fatal, but for once she wanted to be genuine. It was actually a little daunting... more like terrifying, which she'd never admit out loud... but Natasha figured she still had the role-play and the cliché jazz to hide behind. She'd done missions with less.

“The fact is, he's not like anyone I've ever known,” she said, honestly.

For a moment, neither of them said anything; they just regarded each other over the rim of their respective drinks as they each took a ship. Though for some inexplicable reason, Natasha felt her temperature spike when she noticed the corner of Banner's mouth quirk into a tiny smile. The logical part of her brain screamed that this... _situation_ was ridiculous. Bruce was just a man... an adorable, sweet, kind, funny, intelligent, attentive man with understated good looks... but he was _just_ a man. She'd found men attractive before, plenty of men, even a couple of women as well. Being attracted to Bruce was no big deal; at least that's what she was still trying to tell herself.

Natasha bit back a sigh, silently cursing Clint. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't fool herself any more, and she blamed her partner entirely. Yes, she'd been attracted to plenty of people plenty of times, acted on it most of them as well. But this with Bruce was... different, and it was driving Natasha crazy. She felt the sudden urge to smack her head against the nearest hard surface, she was acting like a twelve year old. Then again, she'd gone this far... Natasha figured she might as well lay all her cards on the table.

“All my friends are fighters,” she continued. “Then here comes this guy... spends his life avoiding the fight, because he knows he'll win.”

There was a heartbeat when Bruce simply stared at her, before quickly reaching for his drink. “Sounds amazing.”

“He's also a huge dork,” Natasha added, smirking.

She couldn't help it, the mushiness had gone on long enough. It left her feeling too... vulnerable, and she silently cursed again. Not long after the battle of New York, Clint had accused her of being just like Tony., which Natasha had vehemently denied, until her partner had held up his prime example... her complete inability to say anything sentimental or heartfelt, without having to cover it up with a quip or a sassy one-liner. She'd still denied it at the time, but right at that moment, Natasha could clearly see what Clint meant... and she was determined to wring his neck for it later.

Luckily, the way Bruce spluttered into his glass pulled Natasha out of her musing. She desperately wanted to smirk at him, though since his embarrassed and apologetic smile was so endearing, Natasha settled for raising both her eyebrows at him instead. Bruce tilted his head in acceptance; his answering smile a little self-depreciating.

“Chicks dig that,” she assured, trying not to chuckle.

Bruce opened his mouth as if to speak, before closing it again. He stared at her for a moment, looking at a total loss, though he seemed more baffled by her interest than opposed to it. Which was... promising, Natasha supposed. Out of habit, she began to calculate her odds, not wanting to lay much more out on the table.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, slipping back into her character again. “Should I fight this, or run with it?”

“Ruuuun with it, right?” Bruce replied quickly, his eyes roving her face. “Or did he... was he... what did he do that... was so... wrong, to you.”

It was so tempting to fall back into the act, to be the femme fatal. It would be ao easy for her, a sure fire way to protect her herself, to put distance between them, but Natasha just... couldn't. It was obvious where Bruce mind had gone, but for the most part, they'd moved beyond the incident on the helicarrier. As far as Natasha was concerned, it wasn't even an issue; if she held grudges against _everyone_ who had tried to kill her, she'd certainly be missing a partner.

However, it was moments like this that she was all too aware that Bruce wasn't as at peace with their past as her tried to appear. Natasha had told him on more than one occasion that she didn't hold it against him, though stopped short of pointing out that her _best friend_ had attacked her not long after, as she got the impression that probably wouldn't have helped Bruce much. However, she'd really thought they'd put the incident behind them after staying with Clint, but that obviously wasn't the case. So sensing that words alone wouldn't help right then, Natasha lay her hand gently over Bruce's wrist.

“Not a damn thing,” she assured, quietly.

Bruce looked relieved, though quickly glancing down to where she touched him, before his gaze snapped back to her eyes. Natasha squeezed his wrist reassuringly then pulled away, collecting her drink as she stepped out from behind the bar. With perhaps put a little more sway into her steps than was necessary, she started to walk away, though spared a moment to smile at him over her shoulder. Her voice was practically a purr as she stated:

“But never say never.”

 


	12. Heavy Weight

Four AM had come and gone; the only ones left were the the team, along with Helen, Hill, Rhodey and Wilson, and pretty much everyone had a good buzz going. Thor and Steve were sprawled out on one sofa, passing the demigod's flask back and forth between them. Hill, Helen and Wilson were playing cards, whilst Bruce sat next to Natasha, occasionally sipping a beer. For her part, Natasha was still locked in a drinking contest with Tony, one that Rhodey and Clint had quickly conceded. She had to admit, she was always rather impressed with the engineer's staying power, since very few could match a Russian drink for drink... especially when it came to straight vodka.

As she picked up her refilled glass, Steve announce in a slightly slurred voice it was shot number nineteen. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha noticed that Clint was spinning a drumstick between his fingers; a silent reminder why she was acting like a teenager... she wasn't exactly sure how the stakes had been decided, but Natasha was certain that if she won, Tony had to accompany her and Pepper to a Bolshoi performance of Swan Lake. If she lost, Natasha had some how agreed to sing, as long as Clint provided the beat. Her partner was actually a very good drummer, and whether it was being conceited or not, Natasha knew she could sing. They'd had to learn for a mission back in ninety three, and neither had never bothered to drop the skills.

Shots nineteen through to twenty three were downed quickly, and as she picked up her glass once more, Natasha smirked at Tony who was starting to sweat. She didn't get to down the drink, because Clint had seemingly been drawn into Steve and Thor's conversation; the three of them hotly debating Mjölnir, where her best friend was adamant it was all a trick... his early life as a carnie made him suspicious of anything that seemed like an illusion. So when Thor offered him the chance to try lift the hammer, Tony unsurprisingly jumped on the band wagon.

So whilst Clint, Tony and even Rhodey simultaneously tried to lift Mjölnir, Natasha demurely sipped on her glass of neat vodka. Bruce caught her eye and gave her a tentative smile, before inclining his head towards her drink. She smirked back, glad someone else had noticed she'd won the match. Tony would have argued with her, denied losing or demand a rematch, but he'd accept it if his 'science bro' backed her up... which thankfully meant no public performance. However, Natasha's attention inevitably snapped back to the new competition, as Clint collapsed on the floor giggling uncontrollably.  
  
“I still don't know how you do it man!” he laughed, a little out of breath.  
  
Stark and Rhodey eventually gave up too, since even their gauntlets didn't provide enough strength. Both Hill and Helen declined a go. Wilson only agreed to try if Bruce did, and though hilarious, neither had any luck. When Steve tried, he actually managed to shift Mjölnir perhaps a millimetre, until he too conceded defeat.  
  
“How can you be _almost_ worthy?” Helen asked, tipsily.  
  
“I have a feeling I'd have actually managed, before the serum,” he admitted, smiling.  
  
Natasha nodded her agreement. From what Steve had told her himself, coupled with what she'd read in his file, she understood how he'd change. Not just in the obvious physical sense, but on a more profound level. War changed people, losing someone you loved changed a person... seeing someone come back from the dead and try to kill you, also changed people. It wasn't hard to believe that Steve was no longer the idealistic young man, who'd simply wanted to make the world a better place.

So Natasha imagined the show of testosterone had finally ended, until they _all_ turned to look at her expectantly. But after taking a sip of her drink, Natasha leant back in her chair and briefly regarded the hammer.  
  
“Ma'am?” Steve inquired, obviously trying no to smile.  
  
“Oh... no, no, no,” she chuckled. “That's not a question I need answered.”  
  
For a few more minutes, the guys continued to debate how Thor controlled Mjölnir. Clint, who was still sprawled on the floor, kept insisting it was a trick. Steve readily admitted he had no idea, whilst Bruce, Rhodey, Helen and Tony tried to apply science and technology to the problem. Eventually, the engineer decided it had something to do with Thor's finger prints, which only made the demigod laugh.  
  
“I have a simpler idea... you're all not worthy,” he boasted.

Clint burst out laughing. “When I first saw you, you were nearly crying like a baby because you couldn't lift it either.”  
  
Thor inclined his head, accepting the point, though abruptly stood to pick up Mjölnir. He flipped the hammer one handed, as if it weighed nothing more than a common spatula. Natasha chuckled when everyone else groaned, though she wasn't entirely sure if it was Thor's cockiness that amused her so much, or the fact that Steve had just slipped off the sofa from laughing too much. But whilst Thor continued to boast, Clint nudged Natasha's foot meaningfully. She raised a defiant eyebrow, though ended up smirking when Bruce was the one to nod in the demigod's direction.

If it wasn't for the doctor's encouraging smile, Natasha would have probably ignored them both. However, she begrudgingly accepted she was falling for Bruce's stupidly sweet smile, but still rolled her eyes as she stood before silently walking up behind Thor. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his waist, trying not to laugh as he visibly flinched; though Natasha couldn't control her smirk when she lifted him clear off the floor.   
  
“Does that count?” she asked, deadpan.

 


	13. Suffer in Silence

A lot of what happened next, ended up a complete blur for Natasha. She could mostly remember that a robot... Ultron?... crashed their party and abducted Helen. She thought the team then travelled to a dry dock in Johannesburg, but honestly, Natasha couldn't recall much after that.

There was someone with silver hair that moved like the wind... perhaps. A girl shrouded in red... maybe. Was there a code green? She just couldn't think, not clearly, not until the memories had come. Memories long since dealt with, suppressed or forgotten. But they obviously weren't as gone as Natasha had thought, they bubbled up to the surface of her mind. Memories she'd tried to hide from and bury... with one night stands, self harm, copious amounts of alcohol, prescription drugs, and one too many long nights howling into her pillow whilst Clint held her tightly. Memories she'd spend years in therapy at her partner's urging to accept and overcome... counselling, cognitive behavioural therapy, voluntary electric shock treatment, even hypnotherapy for crying out loud.

She'd thought they were gone, dealt with, dead. But she'd been so very wrong.

Natasha woke slowly. The familiar feel of the leather co-pilot's chair pressed against her cheek, too warm sunlight against the other. Her neck and shoulders were hunched in a way she knew she'd be paying for sooner rather than later, and she screwed her eyes tightly shut, knowing the light was going to make her raging migraine impossibly worse. But then calloused fingers began to gently run through her curly hair; starting from her forehead, running across her scalp, before very lightly squeezing once they reached the nape of her neck. Natasha gave an unguarded sigh of appreciation, knowing only one person would ever try and pull a stunt like that on her... Clint.

Still feeling dazed, Natasha pushed herself upright, sparing a small forced smile for her partner, before sluggishly glancing back into the cabin. The rest of the team looked like... shit, actually. Exactly how she felt, to be honest. The only person who didn't look liked they'd been through the ringer was Clint. Steve and Thor both looked like they'd seen ghosts, Tony looked worried to death, and Bruce looked an absolute mess; sweating heavily though wrapped in a blanket. The doctor barely met her her eye when her gaze roved over him, and he turned his head away.

 _Something_ tugged inside her, but Natasha was too world weary to really notice. She rolled her head against the back rest for a moment, staring out of the window; several long minutes passed by before Natasha realised they were flying over a patchwork of farm fields, though it took longer than she cared to a admit, to figure out what Clint was planning to do. She sat up quickly, grunting in pain as her head throbbed in protest, and glared at her best friend. She couldn't believe what he was doing... the situation must have been _much_ worse than she thought.

Natasha could have screamed at her partner, kicked his ass from here to Timbuktu, he was being such an idiot. But since he was flying the jet, and her head throbbed with pain, Natasha settled for signing at him furiously... after everything they'd done to keep Laura and the kids hidden, what the hell did he think he was doing?!

 


	14. Cards on the Table

Natasha had still been in a daze when Clint had help her strip from her combat gear, before he swaddled her in the soft grey robe he'd bought her their last anniversary; since they celebrated their partnership, because she had no idea when her birthday was... and it was a much more meaningful date for her anyway. She'd felt a little better after one of his bear hugs, and several smaller ones from Laura and the kids, but Natasha could admit at least to herself, Johannesburg had left her feeling pretty raw.

So now she almost sprawled on the spare room's double bed, waiting for Bruce to finish up in the small en-suite. Natasha wasn't exactly sure why they were sharing, not that she was complaining... and not just because she liked Bruce. Despite her best efforts to bottle everything back up, Natasha felt like she had after first joining SHIELD, a little lost and very confused; which meant the last thing she needed was time alone to think. Dwelling on the memories that had been dragged up... ones that Natasha thought Clint had helped lay to rest years ago with a lot of talking, a lot of drinking, a lot of crying, and a _lot_ of shooting things at the firing range... was not going to help anyone. So yes, Natasha was more than happy to be sharing with Bruce; though she couldn't decide if it was her best friend's idea or Laura's.

Oddly, Natasha found she didn't actually mind either way. Maybe some quality time with Bruce was what she... _the_ y... needed. Because she could only imagine how he was feeling, and if she was going to 'run' with her attraction to Bruce, Natasha thought she should be there for him too. It's what Laura did for Clint, and what Pepper did for Tony; they were the only couples Natasha actually knew, and there were certainly worse roll models than those two women... not that she thought she had a hope in hell living up to their examples.

And of course as she mused, Bruce exited the bathroom. The creek of the door startled Natasha out of her reverie, and she looked up to see his freshly shaven face and naked torso. Naturally, working with him to try control the Hulk meant Natasha had seen Bruce in various states of undress, though none had ever seemed so... important before. Despite everything, she couldn't help her gaze briefly wandering; Bruce might not have been as muscled and defined as Steve and Thor, nor as lean and toned as Clint and Tony, but Natasha rather preferred that. She liked that he was... normal, she supposed. Instead of hard muscle, he was softer. Not fat by any means, but... average. Dark hair covered his chest and led down to his abdomen, to the very slight hint of a stomach, giving away his love of authentic Indian curries that his dedicated Yoga routine just couldn't hide... and Natasha found all of it appealing. Sexy even. A tiny smile pulled at her lips as she stood up, towels in hand.

“I didn't...ah... realise you were waiting,” he stammered.

“I would have joined you, but...” Natasha inwardly cringed at her false flirty tone. “It didn't seem like the right time.”

“They'd... ah... used up all the hot water.”

As Bruce spoke, he finished up rubbing his chest dry, giving her a sheepish smile, and when he lowered the towel, Natasha saw how his skin pebbled in testament to his words. She almost shuddered in sympathy. There were worse things than cold showers, but the water on Clint's farm was _frigid_ when the hot tank was empty. And after what had happen at the shipyard, it wasn't an experience Natasha relished.

“I should have joined you,” she replied, a little regretfully.

"Missed our window.”

“Did we?” she asked, quietly.

For reasons unbeknownst to her, and despite the shy smile and small shrug Bruce gave, real fear gripped Natasha at his words. Even as her stomach dropped, she knew she was being stupid. The Black Widow had never needed a man before... except Clint, but he didn't count. Then again, since meeting the archer, nothing had been the same; her partner had changed _everything_.

Since coming to America, Natasha had thrown herself into working for SHEILD, but after realising that was all a lie, just being an agent hadn't been good enough. She'd finally realised she'd simply traded one master for another, she hadn't escaped at all. So she'd stopped trying to hide the fact she was a thinking, feeling person. She stopped denying that she was fond of Bruce, not just attracted to him; at least to herself. Natasha had figured that if all she ever did was work, she was still just what the Red Room had made her... a tool, a weapon. The Black Widow had never needed a man, but she wasn't just the Black Widow any more. She was Natasha, and even if she didn't _need_ a man, she wanted one. One in particular at least.

Clint had taught her how to be a person and then a friend. And as downright cliché as it was, Natasha wanted the man in front of her to teach her how to be lover... a girlfriend even... instead of a one night stand. However, that didn't mean Natasha wasn't left fighting the urge to shut her eyes and sigh. Even to herself, she was starting to sound like one of those heroines from the terrible romance novels Laura loved to read... but at least it was just to herself, Natasha supposed. Maybe it was just the after effects of what that little witch had done to her, perhaps that was making her so pathetic and vulnerable. Bur regardless of all that, Natasha did care about Bruce. Despite, or maybe because of, everything that had happened, she genuinely want to try and make a go of whatever was between them.

“The world just... saw the Hulk, the real Hulk, for the first time,” Bruce stated. “You know I have to leave.”

“You assume that I have to stay?”

Bruce paused with the shirt he was putting on... one of Clint's beloved plaid monstrosities... half way to his shoulders. He looked confused, stunned even. And although it was hard to notice, Natasha also noticed the flicker of hope in his chocolate eyes.

“I had this, um... dream,” Natasha continued. “The kind that seems normal at the time. But when you wake...”

“What did you dream?” he interrupted, gently.

Natasha debated telling him the truth, the whole truth; he deserved to know... had a right to know... if they were going to at least _try_ to be something to each other, she supposed. But the only person who knew everything, or as much as Natasha remembered herself, was Clint. But that hadn't happened until a decade into their friendship, when he was still reeling from his newly suffered hearing loss. Her partner had been lost and vulnerable, shutting everyone out. She'd offered up her sordid past, in order to get Clint to understand the debt she owed him, to assure him she wasn't about to run away and make him face the devastation on his own. In return, he'd opened up and revealed his past as a carnie; the crimes and his brother's betrayal.

That was how their friendship worked Natasha supposed, a trade of vulnerability, a trade of support. It perhaps wasn't the healthiest bases of a friendship, but it worked for them. However, Bruce wasn't Clint. For better of worse, Natasha had read his files. She knew about his childhood... his father, and his mother's death. If anything, she figured Bruce would end up feeling guilty about a situation he had no control over. It was what he did. He cared too much, and Natasha doubted it would help his current mental state... but after everything, she didn't want to outright lie to him. She wanted to be as honest as she could with him, she owed him that much.

“That I was an Avenger,” Natasha said, quietly. “That I was something more than the assassin they made me.”

“I think you're being hard on yourself,” Bruce replied, equally quietly.

He'd walked towards her as he spoke, even going so far as to tentatively touch her elbows, as if he wanted to pull her into a hug... though seemed to change his mind at the last second. For her part, Natasha felt compelled to step into his embrace. She'd never been much of a tactile person, she'd never been giving the opportunity to become one. But since meeting Clint... then becoming part of his ever growing family... Natasha had learnt she really liked hugs. And though she was new to this whole relationship concept, she thought that a hug might be good for them both, that it might help. It seemed like something Laura would do right now, and that woman radiated comfort and warmth like she was made of sunshine... Natasha didn't know how she did it.

“Here I was, hoping that was your job,” she teased, gently.

“What are you doing?” Bruce whispered, sounding almost scared.

“I'm running with it.”   
  
Uncharacteristic nerves made Natasha's heart beat a little faster, as she reached up to cup his cheek, biting back a smile when Bruce leant into the gesture almost subconsciously. Despite the cold wash he'd not long had, he was surprising hot to the touch. The fingers on her other hand twitched to scratch at the hair on his chest, to feel his heartbeat, but she resisted... just. Instead, Natasha lightly rested it on his hip, her thumb curling into a belt loop of it's own accord.  
  
“With you,” she added, for good measure.   
  
Bruce's brow furrowed, and he gripped hold of her hand, gently pulling it away from his face. Natasha searched his eyes, seeing the _want_ he felt clearly, but also the fear and hesitation. Bruce was scared... not because of her reputation, but because he was convinced he'd hurt her. She knew that even on the best of days, Bruce thought of himself as a vessel for a volatile monster that could escape at any moment, and Natasha imagined the self-loathing had magnified tenfold since Johannesburg. Even though _he_ hadn't lost control of the Hulk... having been manipulated by that little witch... she knew Bruce blamed himself. That all the hard work to get him to accept himself over the years, since forming the Avengers, was now redundant. But that didn't mean Natasha wasn't going to try make him see sense. It's what a good girlfriend did, wasn't it?   
  
“If running's the plan, we'll go as far as you want,” she promised.

“Are you out of your mind?” he murmured.

Natasha had expected his reply, expected the pain and defeated in Bruce's voice, but it still oddly hurt. She hadn't really been prepared for that, and she couldn't help wonder how Laura and Pepper had supported their men, every time something bad happened to them. It _hurt_ to see Bruce looking so lost and confused... he looked how she felt, if Natasha was being honest... and she just wasn't sure if she was emotionally equipped to be able to deal with it. She wasn't a good woman like Pepper and Laura were. But still, without really understanding why, Natasha just wanted to make it right.

“I want you to understand that I... um...”

“Natasha. Where can I go?” Bruce interrupted, almost pleading. “Where in the world am I not a threat?”

“You're not a threat to me,” she assured, gently.

“You sure? Even if I didn't just...” He swallowed audibly. “You've no future with me.”

Despite the urge to pull Bruce into her arms, Natasha stopped midway to where he stood and considered him. She hadn't been boastful in her assurance. Sure, there was the incident on the helicarrier, but they'd moved passed that, she'd moved passed that. She knew how to handle the Hulk now. Looking back, apart from the big guy coming because Bruce had been hurt in the fall, it was reasonable to expect that seeing her trapped and vulnerable would be a trigger for the Hulk. According to his records, Bruce had witnessed his mother's death at the hands of his own father, and had gone berserk at Culver when he thought Betty had been in danger.

So Natasha often wondered that if perhaps she hadn't run, maybe the Hulk wouldn't have rampaged after her... not that it mattered. Especially since they'd developed the Lullaby. They'd learnt to trust each other, both Natasha and Bruce, as well as Natasha and the Hulk. She knew the big guy wouldn't harm her. She wanted to tell him all that and more, but held her tongue. There was a rigidity to Bruce's posture and a pleading look in his eyes, that let Natasha know he _needed_ to say whatever he was about to say... even if it was for his own conscious.

“I can't ever...” He gestured around the room. “I... I can't have _this_... kids. Do the maths, I physically can't.”

“Neither can I.”

Her quiet reply simply stopped Bruce dead. He looked dumbfounded. The words had slipped out, almost of their own accord. But whether she liked it or not, Natasha knew they needed to be said. Bruce was laying everything out on the table, and she knew if they had a hope of working, she _had_ to meet him half way. However, she still hadn't intended to explain things quite so bluntly, so she tried again:

“In the Red Room, where I was... trained...”

She paused, swallowing thickly. If she was going to tell Bruce, if she was going to really let him in, he deserved the whole truth. But to her alarm, Natasha realised she was actually rather close to tears... and she almost hoped it was because of whatever the witch had done to her. When she'd told Clint about her past, she'd explained it monotonously, almost robotically. Of course he'd seen through her, and practically pulled her onto his lap for a bone crunching squeeze, but that was besides the point. Natasha was better than this, her past wasn't worth her tears, she was stronger than her memories.   
  
“Where I was raised,” she continued, hesitantly. “Um... they have a graduation ceremony. They sterilise you. It's efficient. One less thing to worry about. The one thing that might matter more than a mission. Makes everything easier. Even killing.”

Natasha despised how her voice wavered throughout her explanation, and how tears had still formed in the corner of her eyes. They threatened to fall, but she'd be damned if let a single one roll down her cheek. She was _better_ than that, stronger than that. Natasha had truly thought she'd dealt with her feelings about the forced sterilisation; could even accept that she was the _worst_ person to be a mother, despite how much she loved Clint's. She was a killer, a monster, no child deserved that. But then again, it had been a _long_ time since she truly thought of herself as a monster. A bad person, certainly, but not a monster. The only thing Natasha could ascribe it to was the little red witch. Memories that had been buried for years had been dragged to the surface, so it wasn't unreasonable to believe that emotions had been pulled along with them.

Bruce, for his part, looked devastated... _for_ her. Natasha watched as he visibly swallowed. saw the myriad of emotions that flashed across his eyes. Concern, sorrow, anger. But thankfully never pity. Natasha didn't think she could have handled pity.

“You still think your the only monster on the team?” she deflected.

It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat, and they both knew it. Bruce opened his mouth as if to speak, and Natasha braced herself for the sympathy that would surely follow. She didn't want sympathy, she didn't want pity. She couldn't handle it, she didn't deserve it, and she was now ready to turn and run away... to chalk all of this; the conversation, the situation, and even her own thoughts and feelings, on the witch messing with their minds. But then Bruce frown, and took a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to steel himself.

“So what... we... disappear?”

The relief that flooded Natasha's body was overwhelming. It was almost a tangible sensation. Her lips twitched into the tiniest smile as she looked up at Bruce; regardless of the sinking feeling that despite her better judgement, she might just be falling for him now.

 


	15. Dots and Dashes

Natasha had to admit, she'd practically been on autopilot since leaving Clint's farm. Everything had gone by in a blur, including the jet and motorcycle chase. Essentially, the Black Widow had taken over... it wasn't like it was a separate personality, more that her life long training kicked in, and everything else faded to the background. It had been a _long_ time since it had happened so completely, but other than vaguely thinking it had to be lingering effects from the witch, Natasha didn't have much time to dwell on it; especially since she now found herself scuttling backwards, hands and heels and bum shuffling across the worn stone floor.

As much as Natasha hated to admit it, when Ultron had somehow burst through it's own former body, her jump of shock had been genuine. There were some things that her extensive training, and rigid self discipline, just couldn't prepare her for; seeing someone rip themselves from inside out... even if that some _one_ was a sentient but emotionally unstable robot-android hybrid... yeah, some things you just couldn't prepare for.

However, what Natasha _had_ been able to control, was where she was currently 'locked up'. Of course, she hadn't actually intended to be captured in the first place... unconscious or not... but she did have a plan. Natasha _always_ had a plan. Several, if Clint was involved. They'd devised and developed their own strategies and procedures over the years. They'd worked for an agency that had a 'no negotiations' policy if their agents were kidnapped or apprehended, so there was never a guarantee that other agents would be dispatched for a rescue. So the first time Clint had been captured after they'd become partners, Natasha had gone rogue to get him back. Well, rogue was relative, since most of SHIELD had expected her the triple cross them anyway; though she was certain Coulson had somehow arranged for the jet she 'stole' to be waiting unguarded for her.

But that was all beside the point. The point was they had plans. Ever since that mission in Budapest, they'd vowed to always find each other. So Natasha knew Clint was searching for her, knew he'd be poised ready to assist, knew he'd be monitoring every wave length and frequency... so when she'd spotted a beat up Morse Code machine, covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs, Natasha had been ecstatic. Of course the feeling was carefully hidden behind a mask of fear and confusion; however her elation wasn't the only thing that had been hidden, so was the pain. Her left leg had dragged along the floor as she'd shuffled 'stupidly' into her 'cage', and if the looseness in her kneecap was any indication, Natasha was rather certain it was dislocated. Still, she didn't let that stop her from discretely dragging the machine over to where she'd propped herself against a stack of crates, and began to contact Clint.

 

**.-- .. -.. --- .-- - --- …. .- .-- -.-**

**.-- .. -.. --- .-- - --- …. .- .-- -.-**

_**Widow to Hawk** _

_**Widow to Hawk** _

 

She wasn't sure how many times she sent out to same message; there was no clock or even a window that she could track the sky from. But Natasha repeated the same eleven letters over and over, until his answer finally came.

 

… **. .- .-- -.- - --- .-- .. -.. --- .--**

… **\- .-- - ..- …**

_**Hawk to Widow** _

_**Status** _

 

**.-- .. - …. ..- .-.. - .-. --- -.**

**.-.. --- -.-. .- - .. --- -. ..- -. -.- -. --- .-- -.**

**.-.. --- --- -.- … .-.. .. -.- . ..-. .- -.-. . --- .-. -.-- .. -. -.-. .- … - .-.. .**

**.. -. -.-. . .-.. .-..**

**-.- -. . . .. -. .--- ..- .-. . -..**

_**With Ultron** _

_**Location unknown** _

_**Looks like factory in castle** _

_**In cell** _

_**Knee injured** _

 

… **\- .-. ..- -.-. -.- . .-. … -... .- … .**

**\- .-. .- -.-. . -.. .--- . - - --- … --- -.- --- ...- .. .- -... --- .- .-. -.. . .-. …**

… **. --- .-- -... .- -.. .. … -.- -. . .**

_**Strucker's base** _

_**Traced jet to Sokovia boarders** _

_**How bad is knee** _

 

**-.. .. … .-.. --- -.-. .- - . -..**

**-... . .-.. - - .- -.- . -.**

_**Dislocated** _

_**Belt taken** _

 

Natasha was actually really angry about that. Her utility belt contained everything she needed to get back on her feet; a field split designed by Tony, along with vials of morphine and Metoclopramide. It wouldn't have been comfortable, but with the kit, her knee would have been weight baring and the injections would have controlled the pain and nausea. Her belt also contained her beloved lock picks... a gift from Clint for their first anniversary as partners... as well as the components to make PLX, as well as some high amp widow bites to trigger the explosive, not to mention a small pack of C-4 for good measure. Being without her belt was infuriating. But even with it, Natasha had to admit she didn't have a valid extraction plan without the boys and the jet.

 

**.-. . … -.-. ..- . .-- --- -. - -... -. - -... . .-.. --- -. –.**

_**Rescue won't be long** _

 

**-.-- … ..- .-. .--. .-. .. -. -.-. . … … .. … .. -. .- -. --- - …. . .-. -.-. .- … - .-.. .**

_**Your princess is in another castle** _

 

**\-- .-.. ..- .. –. .. .. … -. -**

_**My Luigi isn't** _

 

**.. -- -- .- .-. .. --- -... .. .-. -.. -... .-. .- ..-.**

_**I'm Mario birdbrain** _

 

**..-. --- .-. - …. .- - .. -- -. --- - -.-. --- – .. -. –.**

**.-- .. .-.. .-.. … . -. -.. - …. . …. ..- -. -.-**

**.. -- . .- -. - …. . …. ..- .-.. -.-**

_**For that I'm not coming.** _

_**Will send the hunk** _

_**I mean hulk** _

 

**-.-- --- ..- -.. .. -.. -. - .--- ..- … - –. --- - …. . .-. .**

_**You didn't just go there** _

 

**\--- …. .. -.. .. –. .--. . .- -.-. …. . ...**

_**Oh I did Peaches** _

 

Barely resisting the urge to sigh, Natasha leant her head back against the crate behind her. She couldn't believe Clint was pulling that stunt... oh who was she kidding, of course she could. It was Clint she was talking about. Her partner was a little shit when he wanted to be, which was often, not to mention meddlesome. She wasn't entirely sure which her best friend was being right than, but she still silently vowed to get the ass-hole back as soon as Ultron was taken care of.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> Before anyone asks, yes, those dots and dashes are genuine morse code.


	16. A Stolen Moment

“I adore you.”

Natasha had really, truly meant it. It might have taken years to realise it, but she genuinely adored Bruce. And though it seemed equal parts crazy and terrifying, Natasha thought she might even be able to love him one day. But that didn't matter. Her feelings didn't matter, they never really had. Even his feelings didn't matter, as much as she hated to admit it. Because despite the intelligence she'd relayed to Clint, Ultron had already put his plan in motion and Sokovia was now hundreds of miles above ground level. And as much as Natasha could appreciate Bruce's point of view, as much as she accepted and personally supported that he didn't want to transform again, the Avengers... Sokovia... the world... needed the Hulk. And no matter what, the mission always came first.

She doubted anyone would ever believe her... no one accept Clint at any rate... but Natasha blinked back tears as she kissed Bruce fiercely. For a moment, no more than a heartbeat, she let herself indulge. She pressed her lips to his slightly chapped ones, hard, breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne. For that one moment, Natasha desperately wished she could be truly selfish, that she could take Bruce's hand and just run like they'd briefly fantasied about... but that's all it had ever been, a fantasy. People like her didn't get happy endings. So steeling herself, Natasha met Bruce's warm chocolate eyes, hoping one day he'd forgive her.

“But we need the other guy.”

For a split second, Natasha thought to apologise, but figured they'd simply be empty words. Because as much as she already regretted what she was about to do, Natasha was still going to betray the sweetest, kindest man she'd ever met.

She hated, _hated_ seeing Bruce fall, but she forced herself to watch. After all, she was the one who pushed him over the crater's edge... she owed Bruce that much. To watch, to wait. To witness how she'd ruined her own shot at happiness, with the one man she might have actually managed to have a future with. Rigidly, Natasha waited, bracing herself for the consequences of her actions, and hoping that sabotaging their budding relationship would be worth it... that the Hulk would still fight once he emerged. It turned out she didn't have long to wait. She'd expected Bruce to have been close to the bottom before the other guy took over, but barely a minute had passed before the Hulk hauled himself up to stand in front of her.

Natasha hadn't feared Bruce's alter ego for a long time, but she braced herself as the other guy loomed over her; if the Hulk reacted negatively, she deserved it. Natasha knew she'd betrayed Bruce when she pushed him, it was perhaps the worst deception she'd ever pulled. He wasn't a mark, he wasn't a mission. He was a friend... perhaps even more... and he deserved far better than what she gave him. So Natasha was surprised when the Hulk grunted at her in greeting, and practically smiled at her. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Bruce looking out of the other guy's eyes, if only for a moment. It was probably stupid, wishful thinking, but Natasha couldn't help hoping that he understood.

As much as she wanted to run away from it all, run away _with_ him, Natasha couldn't leave the team... the only family she'd ever know. She couldn't leave her partner, not when she owed him so much, not when he was the best friend she'd even had... not when she had godchildren expecting her to help get their dad home safe. Natasha couldn't leave when civilians were counting on them; there was too much red in her ledger for her to walk away before seeing it through. And though she didn't expect Bruce to forgive, Natasha desperately hoped he understood.

 


	17. Postcards from Foreign Shores

Ultron was gone, the threat was gone, but so was Bruce. Natasha had blinked back tears, for once not caring about her mask, as she beg the Hulk to just come back. Actually _begged_ and pleaded, but nothing had worked. Thankfully, the rest of the team hadn't said nothing at the time, not even Tony; who'd unexpectedly bought her a bottle of extortionately priced vodka once they were back in New York. They'd annihilated the bottle that night, the engineer keeping her surprisingly silent company as Helen patched Clint up once again.

As days had turned into weeks, Natasha went through the range of emotions. At first she told herself over and over that Bruce would be back, and soon... she just needed to throw herself into work to get by. So she did. Slipping into the roll of Steve's second-in-command, as they began to train the new members of the team; since Tony and Clint opted to 'retire', and Thor went off to do whatever the hell an Asgardian prince did when he wasn't being an Avenger.

Then had come the anger, where Natasha pummelled Clint during their sparring matches whilst she was at the farm to help out with the newest Barton; raging the entire time that it was all Fury's fault, for originally sending her to Calcutta to recruit the 'big guy' all those years ago.

After that came bargaining with a god, where she asked Thor to first tell her where Bruce was, before finally settling for knowing if he was alright. And although the warrior relayed that 'Heimdell' was certain he was unharmed, Natasha got the distinct impression Thor had literally asked if Bruce was alright and left it at that. Not that she could really blame him, she supposed... it probably wasn't anything out of the ordinary in his culture.

If Natasha was being honest with herself, she had to admit grief came next. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd sat in the dark, nursing her sixth Vodka of the night. Normally she was alone in her pathetic pity party, though sometimes when the second bottle was almost empty, Tony would arrive. They never really said much, he'd simply poured himself a large scotch before sitting silent beside her on the white leather couch. It was in these quiet moments, as they watched the sun rise over Manhattan, that Natasha remembered she wasn't the only one mourning Bruce's absence. If was during one of those nights... six months after he'd left... as she rested her head against Tony's shoulder, that Natasha decided it was time to accept Bruce wasn't coming back.

Months then turned into a year, and she found herself settling into a routine. The new Avengers slowly gelled into together, but to Natasha it wasn't the same. Steve didn't really seem to mind... too focused on finding Bucky, whether he wanted to admit it or not... but there was always something slightly off to Natasha. Of course she missed having Clint as her partner, but she surprisingly missed working with Tony and Thor as well; not to mention Bruce. Rhodey was really only a part-time member, considering his military duties. And although it was good working with Wilson again, and Vision was pleasant enough, Natasha never stopped being wary of Wanda; not that she ever let that slip through her facade. But there was just something about having someone mess with your mind that put you off them, no matter how much you tried to follow your best friend's example and give people second chances.

A year turned into two. Lagos happened, then the Sokovian Accords, which was quickly followed by the disasters of Bucharest and Leipzig. There was the fall out, the aftermath. There was hearing Steve talk about what had happened in Siberia, and knowing what he was saying wasn't the whole story. There was covertly keeping in touch with Tony, checking in on his and Rhodey's recoveries, even as she hopped borders and changed identities.

And throughout it all, throughout the years, Natasha inexplicably dreamt of postcards. The first one was from Fiji. A picture obviously taken from a boat, with the mountains rising majestically from the water. On the back was one single word: **Safe**... she didn't need a signature to know it came from Bruce. The next dream brought a postcard from New Zealand. Hawke's Bay to be precise, picturing a white farm house set in acres of vineyard. On the back was written: **I'm sorry**. Another dream brought another postcard. Seoul's Gyeongbokgung palace done in black and white. The message read: **I miss you**. A final dream brought one last postcard. The hectic streets of Calcutta were clearly depicted, and on the back, the words she'd been secretly hoping to see: **Come find me**.

Natasha had never really given much thought to the dreams, nothing passed rationalising it was her brain's way of processing the fact she still missed Bruce. But after that final dream, where she'd woken to Steve telling her that they were heading to Edinburgh with Wilson, Natasha couldn't shake off the feeling that perhaps the dreams could actually mean something... though logically she knew it was merely wishful thinking on her part.

 


	18. End Game

Edinburgh had been... interesting. Taking refuge back in their old home at the Avengers Compound was even more surprising. It was good to be back, even if Steve started it by trading jibes with the Defence Secretary, even if it was because Tony was gone and the world was once again in danger. Natasha agreed whole heartedly when Steve stated Earth had lost it's greatest defended... and she'd never been so relieved and so upset that she'd been so wrong about Tony; she was worried for the ass-hole, and traded a tense yet understanding smile with Rhodey. However, there was a look in War Machine's eyes, almost as if he wanted to tell her something. It put Natasha a little on edge, kicking her sense up to higher alert as she tried to figure out the cause...

And there it was, in Bruce's unexpected voice as he answered Sam's retort. Not for the first time, the doctor's words hung heavily in the air, as Natasha whipped around to look at him; her heart hammering in her chest as it had done two years ago. She doubted she'd managed to keep the shock off her face, and despite a range of emotions washing through her as she looked at the man she'd been silently missing for so long, Natasha wasn't sure she cared if he saw her unguarded expression.

Bruce's quiet utterance of her name... a shortened, almost affectionate version of it at least... made it perfectly clear that his 'looking great' comment was aimed at her more than the others. Her breath caught, and stupid unwanted tears pricked her eyes as she took in his appearance. His shorter than usual hair, cleanly shaven face, but he was skinnier than before; wearing clothes at least a size too big that were probably Tony's. She watched as he wrung his hands, like he'd always done when he was nervous, and Natasha couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth... she was so relieved Bruce didn't hate her at what had happened in Sokovia, that she simply couldn't be upset that he'd been MIA for two years.

However, the mission always had to come first. Now more than ever. They were at war, this was the end game. Tony was missing, and Natasha was damn sure that Bruce knew more about what was going on than anyone else. Reunions had to wait, reconciliation could happen later; she hoped. They needed information, they needed strategies, they needed to rally their allies. But that didn't stop Natasha giving Bruce another small, slightly relieved smile, before they followed Rhodey into the conference room. And if the hesitant smile he gave in reply was anything to go by, perhaps they might still stand some sort of chance... they just had a war to both win and survive first.

 


End file.
